The Thunder Rolls Again
by rachvic
Summary: Manjoume had never really anticipated that he could be given the privilege to crawl from the depths of the inky black hole that had become his life, back to high ground once again... - A collection of Jun's thoughts when he comes out victorious in the duel against his brother to determine who would have ownership of the Duel Academia.


_**Author's Note:** _So, this is a fanfiction that ended up being more of my way of analysing Jun Manjoume's character. I ended up analysing his character, purely because, honestly, I think Jun is perhaps my favourite character in Yu-Gi-Oh GX, alongside Judai, perhaps due to the development that takes place within his character and how he is presented, along with the problems he is faced with.

* * *

_**"One!"**_

It took all but a moment, all but a single second for him to regain what he had once lost, to feel that rush flow through him again that screamed to him that he was important, that he was needed...

His pale finger shot up through the thick air created by the intense duel that had taken place only moments ago, his arm now strong due to the surge of excitement that would only be given as a prize for the victor to relish in - knowing you had slain the giant, that you had conquered the mountain's treacherous climb, that you had ultimately left victorious...

This feeling... He had missed it so - the thunder had quietened to but a hushed whisper when the new piercing light had cleared away the storm clouds, when that... Osiris Red had taken his throne, had pushed him out of the limelight completely, had all but brought him to his knees...

He had learnt an important lesson on that day, a lesson he wouldn't soon forget, or need reminding of - it was a lesson he vowed to learn only _once. _It would not be necessary for him to learn that fateful lesson once again, his teacher none other than the simply infuriating brunette... Of course, it wasn't the chestnut haired boy that he had lost to, no - in reality he had lost to none other than Daichi Misawa... Of course, he had never planned to lose to the, admittedly more intelligent young man, however he made the rather arrogant mistake of revealing what attribute the monsters had been in his deck, not taking into account that the sharper Ra Yellow student easily picked up on the undertones from his words, that of which he believed had been carefully concealed by the complexity of his metaphor, however he was clearly mistaken. The boy had easily, carefully picked out the hidden meaning behind the intricately stitched together words, taking it up into his own hands before proceeding to throw it back into the boy's pale face at full force, using his own rage against him...  
Perhaps that was what ultimately caused his own loss? Rage... It seemed highly likely, after all he was only in the predicament due to the, previously mentioned, restless brunette - that excitable ball of ecstasy that had somehow managed to strip him or everything he had... He had ripped away his title, taken away the trust once placed in him by his most valuable teacher, Professor Chronos, and worst of all - he had completely torn away at the gargantuan sense of pride that completely engulfed him, leaving it in tatters, and leaving Jun himself, a former shell of himself... An empty creature, the only thing filling the spacious void being a deep **hatred, **pure **bitterness **itself, and all around **envy... **He gritted his teeth at the putrid memory as it crossed his mind, taking him away from the pleasure of this glorious moment, even for a brief second...

_**"Ten!"**_

The follow-up to the first part of the chant called him back to reality, his own lips soon replicating the shape of his new followers in the audience as they continued with his trademark call. His fist pierced through the air, the regained sense of power taking over him, and he soon allowed it to overtake his senses, to completely engulf him, to _drown _him in its flow of pure strength, to allow it to take over every inch of his body... And sure enough, he did, the flames of passion licking against his feet, before completely engulfing him, shooting through his slender figure, causing his entire body to be taken over by the warmth that it brought, possibly due to the way his blood boiled due to this passion, this lust for the very feeling overtaking him.

The cheering was like the purest, sweetest sugar to his ears and he simply relished in the atmosphere that had been created by the duel he had won only moments ago. Due to this enjoyment, he stood proudly stood for his audience to admire, adore and behold, his dark jacket following him as he gracefully span about the stage, his fist still remaining in the air as he displayed it to every single face in the audience - a symbol of his victory, a symbol that he, _**the **_Manjoume, had arose the champion, that he had crushed his opponent, despite all of his push-backs, all of the burdens dumped upon him by this very duel.

He had thought it would be near impossible to be here again, to be in the limelight, to be the King once again, to have that golden crown adorning his midnight locks again, to have every eye in the room resting upon his slim figure once again, and yet there he remained, a sight for the masses as he was heralded a hero, a legend by his fellow students - in an essence, he had just saved the Duel Acedemia, and in turn, perhaps the future careers of nearly every single student who now cheered his name, who now praised the very ground he walked on, at least for that small while.

_**"Hundred!"**_

A smile soon played upon his lips - he didn't even need to chant the rest, they knew, they could replicate the trademark phrase down to its very last syllable without him even needing to finish it for them. Perhaps what caused this grin to grow even wider was the fact the very young man he had been aiming to defeat in battle all this time, to see grovel at his feet, _pleading _and _begging _for his mercy, was perhaps the one chanting the most loudly, as his voice seemed to swiftly slice through others... In a single moment he could only hear the reckless teen screaming out the number with a volume and sense of passion that far surpassed every other individual in the room...

Deep down, he knew the brunette had been cheering for him, from the very moment he had met him - and that was perhaps what irritated him most of all... No matter how much he tried to drive him away, he only seemed to grow closer. He simply could not afford someone to get that close to him - it would only lead to eventual pain and misery.

He was alone in this world, ultimately, only having himself to depend on... However, the weight that rested upon his shoulders was far too much for anyone to bear, for any single person to carry by themselves, let alone allow what was still technically a child to lift such a hefty burden... He _had _to win, he simply could not afford to lose, not for anyone, and if he created connections between himself and others then they would surely on be, eventually, brutally severed by the vicious claws of battle, leading only to the pain and sorrow of the feeling, left lingering, of betrayal. He could not feel any sort of compassion when duelling, he could never truly see it as a _game, _for to him, it was not a mere _game _at all, but rather a laborious task that would eventually determine whether or not he could maintain a title needed to uphold his family name, or rather, whether or not he could indeed win the title needed to uphold his family name, considering recent events... He was literally thrown to the bottom once again, rock bottom for that matter, and being that low down, _killed _him... It had ripped out his old self, that self who had been so comfortable at the top, that he had forgotten that one had to fight to be in that position, that effort had to be put in, in order to actually remain where he was. One simply could not succeed in an act of warfare, without first battling the opponents themselves and overcoming them, and one would be unable to come to the end of a journey, unless they had taken the rough, ragged path to get there, and had travelled every single inch of the way. It took work to stay at the top, and he had clearly forgotten that, becoming too comfortable in his position.

Perhaps it had done him well then, in the end, that the bright-eyed duellist he _pretended _to despise so much had put him in a position that meant he had to fight for his right to be the 'King'... Wait... No! Of course he despised the brunette! He had been the one to make him get the position, after all! However, his heart soon began to doubt this - he _wanted _to despise him, he _wanted_ to feel an angst against the boy that would last for an eternity, and yet a part of him was struggling its way through that told him the opposite, that pushed him into believing that perhaps the _nauseating _creature was perhaps his greatest ally, in the end. After all, he had been the one that had allowed him rise from the ashes, that had allowed the phoenix to spread its gargantuan, golden wings and fly towards a greater goal, the one who had allowed him to realise his own flaws, and grow stronger from this. Of course, he would never admit this to the shorter boy, no, he simply could not allow him to have that pleasure.

The boy simply did not understand him, they had a _very _different views of this game, if one could call it a game - to the pale boy himself, this was not a game at all, however the brunette seemed to view it as being 'fun'.

The so-called 'fun' of duelling had been torn away from him long ago, in fact he could not find any memory of finding a duel to ever be considered 'fun' to him, no matter how much he tried to scout around the labyrinth of confliction that was his mind and emotions.

He had never felt... That side of duelling. When he duelled he often simply felt empty... Nothing. His brain was far too busy calculating the best next step to take after his opponent's to consider such things, to consider anything else. In fact, all he could concentrate on was how exactly to outwit his opponent. He could relish in the victory of the duel after it, and that was the moment he craved for - the acknowledgement that he, **the **Manjoume, had conquered all for himself, that he had won, that he was the victor. However, in the moment within a duel, when he simply knew that he would be the one to eventually leave with the title of the 'winner', then at least a small grin would play upon his lips, knowing that in a few mere moments he would be the one standing on top, he would be the one that the crowd cheered for...

The 'fun' of duelling, was perhaps taken away from him due to the relationship he held with his brothers - they had taught him that all that truly mattered in the end was the result of the duel, and whether or not you actually won, nothing more, nothing less. It was simple to them, and was logical, however it seemed somewhat odd to him that his brothers were granted the privilege of making this decision, considering the fact that they themselves were never truly duellists, but rather stuck up businessmen that knew nothing besides money and how to make it - what gave them the right to determine something such as this, when they knew nothing of the game itself? That didn't matter, after all they did so nonetheless, all but taking away his very heart and soul along with it, forcing him into their frame of thinking, putting the pressure on top of him that if he didn't win, then he was not worth the Manjoume namesake, that he put his very family to shame, that he was a disgrace and had dishonoured his family. Perhaps this what made him so cold? The fear of becoming close to another, only to have to rip them away from him when his family name called out to him - it would eventually mean he would have to make a choice, a choice he knew he would never be truly strong enough to make...

_**"Thousand!"**_

As the number was screeched out again by the restless crowd of students, brimming and buzzing with the excitement lingering from the duel, he was pulled from his thoughts, once again parading himself about the stage to satisfy the desperate shrieks for some form of attention and acknowledgement from him. He was going to enjoy the rest of this moment, he was going to _savour _every last bit of it, until there was nothing left to savour.

Due to this, he kept his fist raised, this time only pumping it once again to display how much this truly meant to him, and the crowd immediately went wild, their volume only seeming to grow ever louder as his passion grew all the stronger.

A small, golden figure soon began to dance around his head, inky black and emerald green shapes also coming into his peripheral vision. A look of pure concern riddled the spirit's golden, odd face as he stared into the boy's dark eyes, that were clearly brimming with determination at this point. "A-Ah, hey Big Bro?... D-Don't cha think you're over-doin' this a bit?... Just a tad?..." The voice was barely a whisper, clearly afraid to allow the words to leave his lips for the dark-haired boy to hear, terrified of his reaction to the spirit's view of this, his brothers remaining huddled behind him, clearly trembling somewhat.

"Listen, Zero-Attack - there is _never _such a thing as over-doing it~" He sang, his sharp eyes seeming to cut through the spirit, earning a soft yelp from both the spirit and his brothers. Of course, the young man had not deliberately meant to strike fear into the spirits, only inform them of his passion, and in all honesty he didn't view them as worthless at all - after all, they had been the ones who had allowed him to be granted with this victory in the end. However, he could not have _them _knowing that, for the same reason that Judai Yuki could never know how much he had allowed the boy to grow as a person - he simply could not risk further damaging his pride, or risk allowing someone to get close to him, due to the relationship he held with his family. As it stood, the spirits worshipped him, and he wanted to keep it that way - he needed at least someone to make him feel as if he was worth something, that he was worth a _lot, _that he was a _King _in his own right, even if that person was indeed the spirits who seemed to wish to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

Almost as if on cue, the crowd began to chant the final, most memorable part of his trademark, and that was enough to make the smug smirk gracing his lips grow wider, into one that would be extremely difficult for anyone to ever attempt to replicate.

_**"Manjoume... THUNDER!~"**_

_The thunder that once boomed throughout the stormy skies, had been set to rest for a while, and the new light had pierced through the grey clouds once shrouding the Duel Academia. However, it was clear to everyone that through the blinding light, the faint sound of distant rolling thunder could be heard once again..._


End file.
